


Abs of Steel

by ussdawntreader



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, art school au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 04:22:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ussdawntreader/pseuds/ussdawntreader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles visits Scott's art college, he's immediately taken with a gorgeous statue of a male torso.  And it's nothing compared to the model...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abs of Steel

**Author's Note:**

> This is straight up porn, I love [hufflepuffia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflepuffia%22%22) for betaing/cheerleading. Filling [this](http://tnw-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/2665.html?thread=68713#t68713) prompt at the teen wolf kink meme! I hope you enjoy, anon.

“Come here,” Scott says, pulling Stiles into the studio, “I want to show you what I’ve been working on.”

The room is spacious and bright.  It takes Stiles’ eyes a second to adjust and then he notices the statue.  There’s other art in varying stages of doneness around, but Stiles can only focus on the metal rendition of a male torso.

“Is that yours?” Stiles breathes, because he can recognise his friend’s’ work, even if it’s stylistically a little different than his usual stuff.

“Yeah, man,” Scott says, a little proudly.  “I met this dude at the gym here and his body was just incredible... I had to sculpt him.”

This sounds like the beginning of a porno, but it’s art school, right, it probably happened all the time.  Also, Scott was probably just interested in AmazeballsBody artistically, like in an art-for-art’s-sake sort of way and not a gonna-bang-that-for-my-balls’-sake, because Scott had been dating Allison for a while.  Stiles’ brain is trying to conjure the face that goes with that body, but none of his favourite actors do it justice.

Stiles blinks.  “Uh, is it finished?” he asks.  He looks away deliberately, trying to find another of Scott’s pieces among the weird abstract things strewn around.  

“I think so?” Scott says.  “If you look at the back, I left it fragmented, but I’m still deciding if I want to completely finish the back, but then maybe it’ll look too similar to _Torso Fragment_ , so I’m thinking I might just leave it.”

Stiles drags his eyes back to the statue.  It’s definitely the best thing to look at in the studio.  “Has gym guy seen it yet?”

“Nah, I’m inviting him to look at it later.  But I gotta take it to my place tonight for end of term.”

Stiles looks dubiously at the piece.  It’s hollow, but kind of large.  “How’re you gonna - oh no,” he says with dawning horror.

“Thanks buddy,” Scott says, clapping him on the shoulder, “you’re the best!”

 

+

 

It’s hell dragging that heavy metal (NOT IN A GOOD WAY) torso up the stairs to Scott’s apartment.  Stiles is sweating by the time they get in the door and his body is having a terrible reaction to the pecs and abs on this statue.

Jackson looks up coolly from the couch.  “What the fuck is _that_ ,” he says.

For some reason, Scott decided it was a good idea to become roommates with the douchiest artist in his program (and there was a lot of competition for that title, as you could probably imagine).  

Jackson’s outer beauty doesn’t match his inner douchebag and that doesn’t match his amazing paintings and Stiles just kind of hates him.  On Scott’s behalf, for having to deal with him ever.

“Was that what you were working on with Finstock?” Jackson asks.  “You were being mentored by one of the greatest artists alive currently and you came up with that?”

“Someone’s lime Jell-O,” Stiles answers because this is his best friend’s art and it’s fucking awesome and he has feelings about it.  Maybe.  “Do you want Scott to do your torso next?”

“Ugh, like I want something so derivative-”

“Let’s move it to Danny’s room,” Scott says.  He looks a bit dejected and damn it, but Stiles really hates that fucking asshole.

“I’m going to tell him you’re putting your shit in there,” Jackson says, as they hoist up the torso again.

“What’s that, Tom Petty?” Stiles hollers back as they gently set it down just inside the doorway.

Scott’s phone goes off.  “It’s Allison,” he says, and his face lights up.  Stiles shoos him away and is left with the torso, in the room that he’ll be staying in while Danny’s at his parents’ place.

Stiles tries not to look at it, but it’s so _perfect_.  The indention of muscles along the sides.  The raised metal slashes that hint at a happy trail.  “Happy Trail to Nowhere,” Stiles muses, running his hand down the unyielding metal.

“Hey,” Scott says, popping his head in the doorframe, “um, can I get a raincheck on tonight’s bro shenanigans?  Allison is kind of having a family emergency and it sounds important and she needs me there.”

“Uh, sure.  We can hang out tomorrow.  I’ll just be here, hiding from Doucheatron.”

“He’s not that bad,” Scott says, but he doesn’t sound convincing at all.

“It’s cool, do your thing.  Tell Allison I want to meet her, okay?”

Scott looks pained.  “I’m sorry, you drove all the way out here.... I’ll text if you something happens.”

Stiles grins.  “I’m here for a few days, dude.  Don’t sweat it.  Go to your ladylove.”

And the Scott’s gone, leaving Stiles with the most beautiful torso ever immortalised.

 

+

 

It wasn’t a conscious decision.  Isn’t art supposed to make you think?  And that’s what Stiles was doing.  He was thinking and looking at the shoulders and chest muscles and it’s just - a super arty body.  Just super arty.

And he’s still trying to picture the face it belongs to.  He runs his hands along the grooves and thinks about them on a live person.  Somewhere out there is a man with a body like this.  Stiles wonders if he’s a student here like Scott, if he like dudes, if he’s an artist or if he just works out _all the time_.

Stiles keeps one hand on the statue’s abs and wrestles with his pants to get his dick out one-handed.  “This is happening,” Stiles mutters to himself, “I am doing this.”  He’s got one hand wrapped around his cock, when the door opens.

“Wuh-wah-what?” Stiles sputters, flinging his hand up, and yes, smacking himself in the face.

“Um,” says the person.  “Are you okay?”

Stiles realises with some relief that there was no way the guy could have seen what he was doing with the metal thing in the way.  Right?  He was just startled.  Startled people smack themselves in the face all the time.

“Yeah,” Stiles says and he’s not blushing at all.  “I’m fine.”

“Sorry if I scared you, I didn’t think there’d be anyone in here.  Jackson told me to just come in.”

So this isn’t Danny.  The guy has an amazing face though, and Stiles might be a little obvious about checking him out, but he’s _hot_.  “It’s okay.  I’m Stiles, I’m just visiting Scott for the weekend.”

He nods.  “Derek.  Scott asked me to do some modelling work and I wanted to see the finished piece.”

Stiles’ mouth goes dry.  Derek is wearing a fitted shirt that shows that he’s pretty dedicated to the gym.  He wonders how he didn’t recognise that chest on sight.

“Oh, this is you,” Stiles says, aiming for charming.  And then he realises that he’s still touching the fucking thing.  He shoves his hands in his pockets.  “Take a look.”

Derek comes in the room and stands next to Stiles.  He looks it over.  He doesn’t touch it.  Stiles realises he’s being a creep staring at Derek staring at himself and looks at the art again.  The silence stretches out, which normally Stiles would be filling, but he doesn’t want to interrupt the man’s perusal of his own abdomen.

And what an abdomen it is.

“What do you think about it?” Derek says finally.

“Me?  Um, well, I’m not an artist, so I think it’s pretty - uh, symmetrical and incredible.”   _Symmetrical??_

Derek looks at Stiles, eyebrows raised.  “Incredible how?”

“Well, there’s the attention to detail and it looks like it’s moving almost, and it’s pretty incredible to think that there is someone out there in the world that actually looks like this-”

Stiles cuts himself off.  He doesn’t look at Derek, he looks at Derek’s metal torso.  His abs of steel (literally...?)

“So it’s incredible.”

“Yep.”

“You think it’s incredible.”

Stiles looks at Derek, and the jerk is _smirking at him_.  “Yes.”

“Did you touch it?” Derek asks.  He steps a little closer.  Stiles steps away.  “Did you?”

Stiles nods.

“What were you thinking about?”  Derek steps close, closer, backing Stiles up until his back touches inflexible metal.

“Uh, you,” Stiles admits.  “What you looked like- your face, who you were.”

“Stiles,” and Stiles is not really prepared for the thickness in Derek’s voice or his intense gaze.  “What were you doing when I came in?”

Stiles kind of freezes.  "Um, I was -uh-"

"Show me," Derek demands.  "Do it again."

This doesn't happen to people outside of Queer as Folk and pornos, right?  Stiles is kind of dazed because sex with this perfect specimen seems kind of imminent.  He turns, faces the statue.

"Hands too," Derek demands and Stiles puts one on the abs of steel again.

Derek's breath ghosts his ear as he presses Stiles flush against the statue.  "Your other hand?"

Stiles groans because while this is mildly embarrassing, it is seriously hot.  He drops his hand down his pants again.

"There it is," Derek says and he's pleased.  "Look at you, touching yourself and touching me.  You didn't even know me, but you were getting off on me."

Stiles groans a little.  Fuck, he's so hard.  His cock twitches under his fingers.   _Deep breaths, Stilinski._  “Take off your clothes,” Derek orders, and steps away.  Fingers clumsy, Stiles fumbles his clothes off.

He turns around to find Derek standing impassively, fully clothed, which must be against the law.  Stiles tugs on Derek’s fitted shirt.  “Let me see,” he says.

Derek smirks, but takes it off and it’s just as good as Stiles imagined: tan skin dusted with dark hair, indentations and ripples.  “What are you going to do with me?” he asks.

Stiles looks him over and swallows hard.  “I want -”

Derek cuts him off. “Show me,” he says, nodding his head to the statue.  Stiles turns and slowly runs his hands along the shoulders and chest.  He runs his tongue across a nipple and down the ridges of the stomach.  Derek makes an aborted choking sound and maybe this level of narcissism should be a turnoff, but he’s so into it and into _Stiles_ , so he keeps going, tasting and touching metal and listening for more sounds from Derek.

Stiles feels hands on his hips and a mouth at his neck and he arches back, bracing himself against the statue.  “So fucking hot,” Stiles hears against his skin as Derek reaches down and fists Stiles’ dick.  “How you want me.  You want to put your mouth on me, don’t you, anywhere.”

If there’s one thing that Stiles really, really likes during sex, it’s talking.  And Derek’s rough voice in his ear is almost enough to make him lose it. “Yes,” Stiles gasps and Derek rewards him by stroking him slowly.

“I want your -” Stiles tells him brokenly, “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

There’s a hitch in Derek’s breath and he steps back, letting Stiles slide to his knees.  And then Derek is in front of him, pants open and pushed down under his hard cock.  Stiles can’t be suave, he’s eager for it, he grips the base of Derek’s dick and in one easy movement, pushes the rest in his mouth.  His throat convulses on it and he lets go, gasping.

He looks up at Derek and tries again, smoother this time.  He can’t keep looking up, so he closes his eyes and runs his tongue along the length.  “Fuck,” Derek mutters, his hands running through Stiles’ hair.  “Yeah, like that,” he encourages, as Stiles manages to fully deepthroat him.

“Keep talking,” Stiles gasps, when he comes up for air, and Derek _does_ , he keeps up a steady stream of narration as Stiles worships Derek’s dick and Stiles feels like he might come without touching himself, which is plain sad.

“Like that,” Derek mutters and his voice gets grittier as he talks.  “Fuck yes, don’t stop Stiles...”  Then, without warning, Derek steps away.  “Stand up,” he commands and Stiles gets up on shaky legs.  Derek stands behind him, and Stiles can feel Derek’s cock between his cheeks, slick with his own spit.

Stiles groans as Derek pushes forward and braces himself against cool metal.  Derek presses further, pushing Stiles chest to chest and it feels amazing, the contrast of hard coldness in front and warm skin behind him.

“Touch yourself,” Derek whispers in his ear, gripping Stiles’ hips tight.  Stiles starts jacking himself off in time to Derek’s thrusts.  “Not gonna fuck you yet, gonna make you wait, gonna let you beg me.”

Stiles whimpers, pressing his cheek against the statue.  The spit is drying and the friction starts smarting and it takes a minute for Derek to notice.  “Lube?”  Stiles can only shrug helplessly.  It’s not his room, after all.

While Derek searches the bedside table, Stiles tries to catch his breath and keep himself from shooting his load everywhere.  And then Derek is back and the cock that’s shoved between his thighs is slicked wet again and the big hand that reaches around to jack Stiles off is - incredible.

“When I tell you,” Derek says in Stiles’ ear and he pauses to nip the lobe gently.  Stiles makes a noise he’s pretty sure he’s never made before.  “You’re gonna come,” Derek continues.  “You’re gonna come all over this statue your friend made.”

At this point, Stiles isn’t really sure a) how he’s still standing, or b) how he hasn’t come already.  

“Ready?” Derek breathes and Stiles makes sounds to show how ready he is.  “Do it.  Come.”  He pulls Stiles back bodily and they watch as Stiles spurts onto the metal statue.

“Fuck,” Derek groans.  “So fucking hot, how you do what you’re told.”  He pushes Stiles back against the art so come smears across Stiles’s stomach and fucks between Stiles’ thighs hard and unrhythmically.  With a grunt, he pulls back and Stiles feels Derek’s come coat his back.

There’s a minute where Stiles feels lightheaded, coming down from an amazing sex high.

“Come here,” Derek says, pulling him into Danny’s ensuite bathroom.  Derek picks up a towel and runs it under warm water.  He cleans Stiles up gently, almost tenderly.  It’s quite a contrast to how he was slamming Stiles against a metal statue earlier.

“So, um, what did you think of Scott’s piece?” Stiles asks, breaking the quiet.

Derek snickers.  “I don’t think I can look at it the same way again,” he says.  “I just think it’s cool he asked me to model.”  As Derek turns Stiles around to clean up his back, he asks, “So you’re just visiting?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, “For a couple days.”

“I gotta go,” Derek says suddenly.  His shirt’s in the bedroom and his pants are undone and Stiles suddenly realises how completely nude he is in comparison.

“Yeah, sure, no problem.  It was - um, nice to meet you.”  Seriously, what is he even saying?  His brain is dead from sex, that is the only explanation.  Braindead from sex.

“I’m just meeting some friends tonight,” Derek says, meeting Stiles’ eyes in the mirror.  “Do you want to join?”

Stiles thinks for half a second.  He could enjoy the afterglow or he could go out and possibly have more sex and afterglow to enjoy.  It’s not a tough decision.

“Yeah, man, sounds good.”

Derek smirks.  “You might want to clean up the statue before we go though.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I'm on [tumblr](http://kawesomes.tumblr.com), let's hang out.


End file.
